


Sex Among the Dead

by kickcows



Series: 'Please Let Me' [4]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/pseuds/kickcows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer solstice, so Vincent suggests to enjoy the sunset in a manner that Undertaker cannot refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Among the Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kindofabadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofabadger/gifts).



> Prompt - "Please see that my grave is kept clean."

* * *

***

It is miserably hot in London, the summer solstice arriving in just the right manner. The temperatures are the hottest on record, but not that it matters to the two gentlemen who are engaged in sexual congress - laying on verdant grass, basking in the warmth of the setting sun on their naked bodies. Never would Undertaker have ever accepted such a request from his lover, but since it is the longest day of the year, he saw no harm in honoring the man’s desire to want to have sex as the sun sets, bringing the longest day of the year to an end with a bang. Literally.

The sun begins its descent, as the two men kiss one another, bodies moving together as one, Undertaker watching how Vincent Phantomhive writhes on top of him. His hands settle on the aristocrat’s hips, holding onto them tight as he thrusts himself deep into his pliable body. They had been at it for hours already - defiling Vincent’s office, then moved to the music room, and then to the kitchen - much to Tanaka’s dismay. But Vincent - ever aloof - had just dismissed him, while Undertaker took his fill of his lover’s body, swallowing down the man’s essence with gusto, as the man had fucked his face in the back of the pantry.

“M’lord, you do have a strange fascination.” He remarks, with a soft chuckle, as Vincent’s fingers claw into his chest, forcing him to arch his back. He hisses, then moans low, enjoying the tolerable pain his lover bestows upon him.

Chestnut eyes seem to glimmer with the fading light, as Vincent rolls his hips, pushing himself down onto Undertaker’s girth. “What ever do you mean?” He rolls his hips more, mouth going slack with a soft moan as the tip of Undertaker’s cock seems to find that one spot deep inside of him.

He turns his head side to side, a wicked grin on his face. “You wanted to have relations amongst the dead?” The graves that they laid between - the late Earl of Phantomhive and his wife, had their bronze plaques tucked into the ground.

“It _is_ the best view on my grounds of the sunset,” Vincent’s fingernails dig into his chest, as he leans his head back with a low groan. “I figured it would not bother you to be here, given what your job is.”

Smirking, he pulls Vincent down towards him. “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, Vincent.” He feels him shudder around him, his girth being squeezed delightfully so by his lover’s body. “I’d just as soon fuck you in a coffin.”

“Any available….sur-faahhh….” He listens to his lover’s soft moan penetrate his ear, after one particular shallow thrust. “Mmm….Do that again, please?”

He rolls his hips slow, sliding his hands down Vincent’s hips, spreading his cheeks apart, as he thrusts into him once more. “You mean _this_ …?”

“Mmmm….yes….” Vincent’s face presses against the side of his neck, Undertaker taking his cue to roll them, so that it’s now Vincent’s back that rests against the manicured lawn. Legs wrap around his waist, as the two stare into each other’s eyes. “I never want us to stop this. Pr-om-aah-ise…?”

The words are said with such conviction, that all he can do is nod his head, grey strands of hair framing Vincent’s face. Brushing his lips against his, they kiss one another with a soft kiss, before going back to their carnal activities. After a few slow thrusts, he speaks low into his ear, “Not even death could stop me from being with you, my beautiful Vincent.”

“Aaah….”

Words cease, as they chase their orgasms, hoping to beat the sun. In a race against time, Undertaker watches Vincent’s face, brushing his lips against the small mole just below his left eye. Blunt nails drag down his back, running down the length of his scars, as he pushes himself further into Vincent’s body. He can feel him beginning to quiver around him, the warmth of his release spreading between their bodies, Vincent leaning his head back with a loud moan. He thrusts a few more times before finding his release, just as the sky turns to a golden color. Undertaker presses as close as he can to his lover, coming hard deep inside of Vincent’s body. He hears him utter a soft moan, the arms around him clinging to him with as much strength of a limp noodle. Once he comes back down from his high, he holds Vincent close to him, both attempting to control their labored breathing.

Crickets begin their nightly symphony, as the sky becomes a deep indigo. “Shall we head inside, m’lord?” He asks, fingers tangling in Vincent’s hair, as they lay together.

“When the moon rises?” Vincent asks, a perfect smile on his face. “Then we shall go up to my bedroom?”

Grinning, Undertaker nods. “But of course, m’lord.”

The moon appears on the horizon, slowly makes its way up through the night sky. “Taker?”

“Yes, Vincent?” He looks down, and sees hazel eyes looking up at him with a gaze that steals his breath away.

“When I’m gone, will you do something for me?”

He hates when he speaks like this, always seeming to do so after they’ve had their fill of one another. Perhaps he finds it extra upsetting, given where they’re lying together. “What is it you would have me do, m’lord?”

“Please see that my grave is kept clean?”

As more stars paint the sky, he can only give a nod of his head. He does not trust himself to speak, because if there is one thing he knows, it’s that he will outlive this man, no matter what happens, because of what he is. The nod seems to be enough for him, as Vincent lifts himself up, and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, one that starts off slow but begins to deepen. Without a word, Undertaker picks up Vincent in his arms, and carries him bridal style back into the house, heading to his bedroom with no stops along the way. They spend the rest of the night together, neither not quite ready to bid the day farewell.

***

Every night he comes here. Since the night of the fire, even before the burials, he would come to the Phantomhive manor in the hopes that what had transpired had been a figment of his imagination. But each night, Undertaker has to remember that things _did_ happen, and his life had been torn apart on the eve of the 14th of December. He sits on the grass, near the spot that he and Vincent had defiled all those years ago on the summer solstice.

“You’re probably tired of me saying this, but it helps me feel better.” His hand touches the plaque on the ground, fingers tracing the letters of his lover’s name. “I still haven’t found him, Vincent. I keep looking, and I keep listening, but there’s nothing.” He closes his eyes, placing his palm flat on the ground. “I’m trying to find your son. I know he has to still be alive.”

Tears begin to slip down his cheek. He lays down on the grass, keeping his palm pressed over the area he knows Vincent’s coffin is. There’s nothing inside of it, for only the ash remained of his body, the fire too hot to allow him to try and collect his cinematic record. Part of him is glad he was not able to see it, for he did not want to see those moments with Rachel, even though he knows that Vincent’s love for him never changed when she entered into his life. But, the other part…

The other part wishes he could have seen his life again, seen the images of what made him the most happy. No doubt the birth of his son, the day of his wedding, but perhaps there would have been some of him? The first night they had made love together, or maybe that summer solstice evening. Just _something_ that would connect the two of them together forever. But, he’ll never know, and he’s made his peace with that.

“Looks like I’m going to get back into the mortuary business.” He rests his cheek on the plaque, sighing softly. “If your son is out there, surely he will learn to come to me, for I have no doubt he will take up that awful title of yours.” He looks up at the night sky, seeing the same stars that he had looked up at so many summer nights with his lover. “You weren’t supposed to go this soon, Vincent,” his voice cracks with a broken whisper.

Standing up, he grabs the rake, and begins to rake up the leaves that have fallen over the course of the day, then sets the pile on fire. He shines the plaque with oil, making sure that it looks as new as it did when it was placed down a month ago. As his lover had requested, he makes sure to clean up his grave every night, not wanting a day to go by that he doesn’t tend to it. He stands in front of his lover’s grave, a sad smile on his face.

“I’ll keep my promise, Vincent.”

_Why couldn’t you keep yours?_

* * *

 


End file.
